


Catch Me I'm Falling

by haggarrrd



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Violence, M/M, Rape, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:44:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haggarrrd/pseuds/haggarrrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has a dark past that he does his best to hide from Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me I'm Falling

Montparnasse had been the perfect gentleman when Grantaire first met him, and it hadn’t been much of a surprise to anyone when the dark haired teenager, who had barely scraped 16 at the time, fell in love with the exciting prospects that Montparnasse brought along. Montparnasse was older, almost 27 by the time he and Grantaire first crossed paths, but still struck by an enchanting form of beauty that Grantaire, as an artist, had been powerless to resist. 

Montparnasse was the exact opposite of everything Grantaire had been running from, and that probably explained why he fell straight into the man’s arms without even a second of consideration. Raised strict Catholic, Grantaire’s life had been surrounded by rules and judgements, and yet with the new, dark eyed stranger, he was free. There was no one pressuring him to get married to a nice girl and have kids, there was no one to frown at him every time he skipped church or came home too late. There was just the freedom to do as he pleased, and Grantaire often thought that maybe he was in love with the prospect of freedom more than he was in love with Montparnasse. 

Jehan didn’t approve. Montparnasse had a reputation with drinking and drugs, and the bar he ran downtown was more than well known for being a strip club whose workers were some of the most reputable prostitutes in town. Jehan was terrified of his best friend getting mixed up in something he would never be able to get out of, but Grantaire didn’t care. He had never seen that side to Montparnasse, so in his mind it barely even existed past a couple of badly informed rumours; Montparnasse opened doors for him, lit his cigarettes and held him close at night. There was nothing about the man that screamed pimp and drug lord. 

Until there was. 

It started slowly, as most things do. Montparnasse started talking about sexual things that Grantaire didn’t understand, and had no desire to attempt, but he found that Montparnasse could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. Grantaire did not enjoy sex with Montparnasse; it was rough and harsh, and the older man often said things that hurt the smaller teen, but it had been drilled into his head that he was there to be of service, and so serve he would. Next came the drugs; Grantaire hadn’t meant to find them, stashed away under a loose floorboard in the downstairs coat cupboard. He dropped them as soon as he realised what they were, and then never mentioned them again. He didn’t even think of them again until he saw Montparnasse snorting cocaine off of the back of his hand at a party they were at, and then he couldn’t get them off of his mind. 

The transition into drinking was the slowest, and the most painful. Montparnasse high was slow and subdued, too weighed down by foreign substances to be of any harm, but when he was drunk, he was angry. Grantaire grew tired of it by the time he turned 17 and decided to leave; Jehan would welcome him with open arms if he turned up, and so he packed a backpack full of clothes and sat on the couch, waiting for Montparnasse to come home. He owed him that much, of that he was sure.

“What’s going on?” Montparnasse growled when he saw the bag at the teenager’s feet; he was drunk, rather than high, as Grantaire had hoped. He opened his mouth to explain, maybe even lie a little if the situation called for it, but Montparnasse grabbed the bag up before he could even take a breath, and opened it up to see all of Grantaire’s clothes shoved in messily. He grabbed the clothing out of the bag, and tossed it to the ground, his face growing red. He looked up at Grantaire, his eyes dark and dangerous, “you think you’re going somewhere?”

“I just…” Grantaire stammered, his eyes lowered to the ground. “This… us… we’re not like we were when we started dating. I jus—“ 

Montparnasse dropped the bag and grabbed him up from the couch, landing a swift and hard punch to his eye. He slammed the smaller man against the wall while he was dazed, making his teeth clash against each other painfully, and then wrapped a hand tightly around his throat. Grantaire whined and grasped at his boyfriend’s arm, trying to loosen the grip on his throat but the dark eyed man was in his face instantly and roared, “No! You are not leaving me, not after everything I’ve done for you! I took you in when no one else wanted you, you think if you just leave someone else will take pity on you the way I did? No one else wants you, Grantaire and they never will.” 

Grantaire’s heart seized painfully at the words, but Montparnasse’s expression and tone softened, “I love you, Grantaire. Don’t just throw that away for nothing. We’ve got a good thing going on here, don’t leave.”

Montparnasse released his grip on the teen’s throat and took a step back, that dangerous look still embedded in his eyes as he looked at Grantaire. The shorter man rubbed at his neck and looked down, trying to keep the tears in his eyes from spilling over, and said, “I’m sorry, I should have never even thought about it. I’ll… uhm… I’ll go put my clothes away.”

That was the first time Montparnasse ever hurt him, and the first time he ever received a black eye. He spent his seventeenth birthday with a bag of frozen peas over the bruised area, and told his friends and family that he was too sick to attend the dinner they had planned for him. He never did tell Jehan the truth about that day. 

He was foolish then to think that Montparnasse would never hurt him again, so long as he didn’t try to leave again, but he soon found that the slightest thing could set Montparnasse off, especially when he was drunk, but rarely when he was sober, and Montparnasse knew how to torture Grantaire, rather than simply beat him. 

“Go flirt with that girl over there so I can sell some product to her boyfriend,” Montparnasse breathed into his ear, his eyes focused on a busty brunette across the room. Grantaire looked at her too, his eyes full of shock and resistance. He was supposed to say yes, there was no doubt in his mind about that but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to flirt, and he was too nervous to even think about doing so coherently. 

He shook his head and before he could even stop himself he said, “No, no, I can’t…”

Montparnasse looked at him with fury in his eyes, but stayed subdued and slunk off to talk to one of his friends. Grantaire was safe while they were in public, Montparnasse would never risk revealing his dark little secret in public, but once they got home it was a whole other story. The second they passed through their front door, Montparnasse grabbed his arm tightly and marched him up the stairs and into the bathroom. He pulled Grantaire’s clothing off and tossed it to the ground, then shoved him into the shower cubicle and turned the faucet on. 

Freezing water washed over him instantly, taking his breath away and sending a tingling of pain down his spine. He tried to fight back and get out of the cubicle, but Montparnasse’s hands were firm on the top of his arms, keeping him in place with all his strength. He screamed and thrashed around, “Parnasse please, it’s freezing! Please I’m sorry, it hurts!”

“You listen to me now,” The older man roared, squeezing Grantaire’s arms for emphasis. “When I tell you to do something, you do it! I tell you to flirt with someone, you go flirt with them. I tell you to slip something into someone’s drink, you do it. I tell you to fuck someone, then you fucking do it, do you understand me?!” 

“Yes!” Grantaire screamed, his voice thick with tears and pain.

Grantaire soon began to realise that Montparnasse didn’t love him, and he definitely didn’t love the taller man. He was a pawn in Montparnasse’s games, just another tool for him to get what he wanted, and Grantaire hated it, but he knew that there was nothing he could do to get away from it. Montparnasse had spies everywhere; even if Grantaire tried to run, Montparnasse would find him and hurt him for so much as thinking about leaving. Montparnasse liked control, and he liked controlling Grantaire more than anything. 

Jehan could tell. The boy had some sort of special instinct when it came to Grantaire, but the boy refused to tell his best friend anything that went on within the walls of his home, no matter how much he wished that someone would come and save him. He wished for the safety of his mother’s arms, but he knew that she would never take him back in after living with another man for so long, and so Grantaire was stuck with Montparnasse. He was stuck with being controlled and being beaten whenever he didn’t do what was wanted of him.

On the day of Grantaire’s eighteenth birthday, Montparnasse collected him from their house around 6pm, stone cold sober without so much as a drop of any foreign substances in his system. This alone was enough to put Grantaire on edge; he’d been with Montparnasse for nearing two years, and he hadn’t seen the man without something to help him along with the day for at least a year and a half. 

“Come on, we’re going somewhere.” Montparnasse grunted, and Grantaire wondered if maybe there was some sort of surprise waiting for him. A foolish thought, but he hadn’t been quite able to quench the shred of hope that had lingered in his heart that Montparnasse might actually love him a little. So he got in the car without another word, and sat there quietly while they drove to a large hotel on the other side of town. He followed Montparnasse to the elevator, and then up to the sixth floor where someone was waiting for them.

Grantaire recognised the man as one of Montparnasse’s associates, and he realised instantly that they were there on business. Montparnasse probably didn’t even remember that it was Grantaire’s birthday, which didn’t surprise him at all. They followed the man down the hallway, to one of the nicer rooms at the end of the hall. 

“Go sit on the bed in there and don’t make a sound.” Montparnasse hissed to him as soon as they were in the room, and Grantaire complied instantly. He had long since learnt the repercussions of disobeying Montparnasse. He sat there on the plush bed and watched as Montparnasse talked to the man in the other room; money was exchanged, but nothing else. No drugs, like there had been every other time Grantaire had been on business with Montparnasse. The man in question walked over to him and leaned forward to whisper, “these men are paying me a lot of money so don’t you mess this up. You do whatever they tell you to and don’t make a sound. Don’t forget I’ll be right outside the door, so I’ll know if you’re not doing what you were told.”

Grantaire wanted to be sick. Nothing had been exchanged because he was the product. He wanted to scream and run away, but Montparnasse was already leaving him alone, and the five men were walking over to him with identical smirks on their faces. 

“Relax now, you’ll have fun.” One of the men instructed him, pushing him back with firm hands until he was laid in the centre of the bed, his small frame meagre in comparison to those around him. One of the other men stepped forward and pinned his shoulders down, while the first man worked on pulling Grantaire’s jeans and boxers down.

“No… no!” Grantaire squirmed, as another man stepped forward to hold his hips down. He was a complete prisoner to these men, and he let out an ear-shattering scream as the first man pushed into him.

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched Lovelace the other day, and I kind just got inspired to write this I guess...


End file.
